"Are you sorry?"
He nods. His hazel eyes scan me carefully. "To death."
I roll my eyes. "I hate it when you apologize to me."
"I hate it when you do," he retorts.
We both glare at each other before bursting out laughing. "You keep having an airplane door in your teeth," he points to my mouth, flashing me an amused smile.
As I smile, the spacing between my two upper teeth is much more noticeable.
I giggle. "And you keep dressing like a kindergartner."
I point to the Lightning McQueen pin attached to his white T-shirt. It’s the pin I gave him when he turned seventeen.
"Never stopped, Marshall."
I start fiddling with a strand of his hair. "It's longer," I murmur.
He arches an eyebrow and copies my movements, weaving a strand of my brown hair around his index finger. "And yours is shorter."
I nod. I've always had long hair because my mother never wanted me to cut it. When I was fifteen I did, and the consequences were not the best—and I hadn't even cut it thatmuch. Last year, seized by an impulse to change, I took the kitchen scissors and asked Maggie to cut it as short as possible. Now it falls just below my shoulders.
"Yes, I—I cut it last year. I thought a change might be good for me."
"You don't look bad."
"Neither do you," I murmur, looking him straight in the eye before letting out a silent cry.
He’s not sick, but the last time he let his hair grow was when we were sixteen years old. When I think of that time, I lose my breath. He couldn’t find the strength to do anything.
Vincent welcomes me into his arms, holding me close. Now I feel at home again.
I circle his torso with my arms and allow myself to sob into his shirt. I’m glad he has come home.
"What were you listening to?" I point to his phone, to which the headphones are still connected.
Vincent grabs it and turns it on, showing me the screen of his iPhone.Boulevard of Broken Dreamsby Green Day is playing. It was the first song he tried to learn to play when he joined the music club in middle school. That was also the first time we got separated at school.
"You know they just finished their last tour?" I continue.
He nods. "I went to the concert in Seattle," he murmurs.
"With Max?"
He nods again and I do the same. "Oh..." That's all I say before I burst into another silent cry.
I hide my face in his shirt. "You left me alone," I mutter through tears.
He sighs, stroking my hair. "I know."
"You left."
"I know, Marshall. I'm sorry," he retorts.
I squeeze the fabric of his shirt between my fingers. "You left me alone."
"I know, Nova. I'm so sorry."
